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L. E. TIDDEMAN, Author of “Toddy;” &c.

LONDON: BLACKIE & SON, 49 & 50 OLD BAILEY, EC. GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN.

CONTENTS.

Chap. Page ee ACVASIE TO AUNTENELLIE ys satieene on i

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III. Tur Fruit or DISOBEDIENCE,. . . . 385

AVeeee ATS VaS OLUNESSS oige eee oe erence 40

V. A Happy Meeting, ...-.... .° 60

THE TWINS.

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CHAPTER I. A VISIT TO AUNT NELLIE.

fey AISY AND POPPY were twins, and very i e like the flowers after which they had been named. Daisy had a little fair face, with cheeks of a delicate rose pink. She was gentle and shy. Poppy had the brightest of colours, and was as daring as could be. Left alone, Daisy would never have got into mischief; but Poppy was never out of it, and whatever she did her sister was bound to do also. Not that Poppy meant to be naughty; she used to make good re- solves every night when she went to bed, and break them in the morning when she got up again. She had such a tiresome way of forgetting every- thing she was told that only a very patient mother 8 THE TWINS. could possibly have put up with it. But Mrs. Montrose was very patient indeed and seldom scolded. Although when she sighed and said, “Poppy dear, you must pray to God to help you remember,” Poppy used to feel so sorry that she ‘thought she never could forget again. Unfortun- ately, however, she had a way of getting excited, and then everything went out of her head all at once. The children lived in the country, and there was no lady whom the poor folks loved better than their mama, Mrs. Montrose. She was good and kind to them, not only when they were ill and in trouble, but at all times. She did not talk to them as if she thought herself above them because she was rich and lived in a fine house. ' Quite the contrary. She seemed to feel herself their friend; and their friend she certainly was. ‘She is a real lady,” they all said; ‘a real lady without any airs and graces.” And they were right; for no real lady ever puts on airs and graces, you may be sure. In this way Daisy and Poppy were like their mother. They used to run in and out of the cot- tages just as they liked, and every one was glad to see their smiling faces, and hear their pleasant cheerful voices. Tt would be “How do you do, Mrs. Jones? I A VISIT TO AUNT NELLIE, 9 have brought such a pretty picture-book for Jack” (Jack was a cripple); or “Good morning, Mrs. Prodgers. How’s the baby?” and so on. Though they were only seven they had been taught to take an interest in their neighbours, and to be very sorry if anyone was ill. One bright, sunny morning in summer the two came down to breakfast, looking fresh and pretty in their clean, white frocks, and in high spirits. Mama and Papa were at the table. In ran the little ones helter-skelter. What a noise they made, to be sure; but nobody grumbled, not even Papa, though Poppy nearly covered him with kisses. He only said “Softly, Pussy, let Daisy have her turn,” and lifted her down to make room for her sister. The twins chatted all through breakfast; they were to have a holiday from lessons, and’ were full of plans. « All day to amuse ourselves in,” said Poppy. “How lovely. No sums—no geography (Poppy called it jography)—no horrid multiplication table.” “ And no scales,” cried Daisy. ‘Mama, we can go to see Aunt Nellie, can’t we? and if she asks us we can stop to lunch?” “Yes,” said Papa and Mama both together. So that was settled. Then Poppy had a bright idea. 10° THE TWINS.

“ Ag we come back,” she said, “I'll just tell you what else we can do. We can go and see Mrs. Saunders down by the toll gate, and ask after Sarah Anne.” “Who and what is Sarah Anne?” asked Papa smiling. “Sarah Anne is Mrs. Saunders little girl,” an- swered Poppy. ‘She's only five, and she is not at all well. She feels ever so sick, Mrs. Saunders said so yesterday. And she has to stop in bed all day.” “Oh, that must be horrid,” put in Daisy shaking her head gravely. “TI call it the horridest thing to have to stay in bed. I shall take her my doll, the oldest of course; I could not give her the new one. I got it for a present, and Mama says one ought not to give presents away.” « And, Mama,” cried Poppy at the top of her voice, “couldn’t you give me a pot of jam for Sarah Anne. Jam is so nice when you are ill; except currant jam.” “ Why not currant?” asked Papa. “Powders!” exclaimed both the little girls, screw- ing up their faces. They meant that it made them think of powders, because they had taken them many times in that particular kind of jam. “T am very sorry to disappoint you, dears,” said A VISIT TO AUNT NELLIE. 11 Mama gently (she was always sorry if she had to say no to any request her little girls made); “but I really must. I cannot let you go to Mrs. Saun- ders.” “Oh, Mama!” they both cried in a breath. “And why not?” asked Poppy crossly. Mama was just going to answer, but Papa would not let her. “That is not the way little girls should speak,” he said gravely. “If you had asked in a polite way Mama might have told you, but now I am sure she will not. She has forbidden you to go to Mrs. Saunders, and that is quite enough.” And so it should have been, I am sure. But it was not. Poppy was in a naughty temper in a minute. She pushed her plate away, shrugged her shoulders, put her finger in her mouth, and looked sulky. There was not much sense in this; but I have seen plenty of little children do the same, besides some bigger ones who ought to have known better. Mama and Papa were wise, they took no notice whatever, but left her to come to her senses again; which she very soon did, for Poppy was not a sulk and never kept cross for long together. As soon as breakfast was over she and Daisy were in the garden shouting at the top of their voices, and laughing as if there were no such 12 THE TWINS. things in the world as bad tempers, or frowns, or disappointments. When Mama called them and said they might go to Aunt Nellie’s now if they liked, they were quite surprised to find how quickly the time had flown. But they did not lose many minutes get- ting ready, you may be sure. To go to Aunt Nellie’s was such a treat; and there was no need to take Nurse with them, they knew every inch of the way, and of course in the country there is no fear of being run over, there are so few carts and carriages. The twins walked hand in hand, stopping from time to time to gather wild flowers which grew by the hedge-row—ragged robin, harebells, and great ox-eyed daisies. Daisy was very fond of her god- mothers as she called these last flowers, and she stuck a great bunch of them in her sash. Aunt Nellie was very glad to see her nieces. She was seated by the window stitching busily, but she put her work aside and began to bustle about directly. ‘When she opened the sideboard door the children knew that she would find something nice inside, and so she did. No one’s cakes were as good as hers, and she cut a large slice for each of them. She was so generous I don’t think she would have “A VISIT TO AUNT NELLIE. 13 known how to cut a small one. Then they sat still and rested for a while before going into the garden to gather strawberries. Each child had a little basket given her, and was told to fill it as full as it would hold. Of course as they might eat as many as they liked at the same time, it was a pretty good while before the baskets were filled. “Oh! I must eat this monster big one,” cried Daisy. “These little ones are too scrimpy to put in,” added Poppy cramming four or five very small berries into her mouth all at once. Aunt Nellie laughed and sat down on the garden seat, being tired of waiting. But at last their pleasant task was over, and the twins went indoors to see Grand- ma, who sat in her arm-chair with Bob the big white cat on her knee, and her spectacles on her nose. Bob must be stroked of course, and his whiskers had to be admired. They were really uncommonly long and straight, and he himself was a remarkably handsome fellow, and sang as loud as any tea-kettle. Though he was pretty old he could play like a kitten, and never stuck out his claws in a spiteful way, or tried t6 scratch you. The twins were sorry when it was time to go home, but pleased with their baskets of straw- berries, which looked fresh and pretty, for Aunt 14 THE TWINS. Nellie had laid green leaves over them to keep the sun off. Daisy chatted merrily; Poppy also, but only at first. After a while she grew quite silent and looked cross. When they reached the toll gate she found her tongue. “Tt is a very great shame,” she said; “we might have given Sarah Anne some of this fruit.” “Yes,” said Daisy, “they would have been just the thing for an ill person.” They stopped opposite the cottage, and Poppy stood with her back to the wall and began kick- ing her foot backwards and forwards till her little shiny shoe was covered with dust. “ It is a horrid shame,” she added in a grumbling tone. “Yes, it is a horrid shame,” echoed silly Daisy. She had not thought so before, but she always said exactly what Poppy did. After this the two children were quiet for a while, but at last Poppy spoke. “T don’t care a bit,” she said, “it is all non- sense. We will go into Mrs. Saunders. _Why shouldn’t we?” “Oh! Poppy, Mama said not.” “Mama did not know about the strawberries. If she had it would have been different. She would have told us it was quite right to give some to Sarah Anne.” A VISIT TO AUNT NELLIE. 15

“Oh! no, Pop, we mustn’t; we really, really mustn’t.” “You may do as you like, Daisy. I’m going in. So there!” Poppy looked very flushed and cross, she was pouting too. As for Daisy she was not wise enough to do what was right because she knew it was right, so she just followed. Mrs. Saunders had but two rooms, the boys slept in the one upstairs, she and her husband had their bed in the sitting-room. So that when the children lifted the latch and entered, there, warmly tucked up, lay little Sarah Anne. The mother was not there. “How do you do, Sarah Anne?” cried Poppy; “we've come to see you because you are ill. It must be horrid to have to stop in bed, so we have brought you some strawberries.” Sarah Anne peeped out from beneath the clothes, and opened a pair of very heavy, sleepy-looking eyes. “Oh! dear, how red you are,” cried Daisy. And so she was, not in the cheeks only but all over her face. “Tet us look at her hands and see if they are red too,” said Poppy, taking the little fingers in hers. ‘Why, I declare, they are just as bad.” . 16 THE TWINS. Sarah Anne laughed. She was rather proud of being noticed so much, and did not particularly care what colour she was. “Tiss me please,” she said, holding up her face for the purpose. The twins did so. Poppy first, and Daisy after. Just as they were in the act in came Mrs. Saun- ders. “Oh! dear! dear! little Misses. Whatever are you doing here?” she exclaimed. I never should have believed that your ma would have let you come.” ‘ “She didn’t exactly,” said Poppy blushing. “She told us not; but she would not tell us why, so we didn’t think there was a why. Besides we had got some lovely strawberries for Sarah Anne. So we came.” “Tt was very naughty, Miss Poppy, and you must go home again directly. Dear! dear! don’t you know it is scarlet fever?” “No, I didn’t; how should I? But I thought it must be scarlet something, because she looks so awfully red. But what does it signify? That is not the why.” “Tndeed, and it is, Missy. Scarlet fever is catching.” “Then we have been and caught it,” said Daisy, (479) A VISIT TO AUNT NELLIE. 17 turning quite pale, and the two little girls slipped out of the cottage with very sober faces. “T thought Mama knew best,” said Daisy in a whining voice. “Then why didn’t you say so?” Soledad “You didn’t. You're a story.” So they began to quarrel, and were cross with each other instead of being cross with themselves, which would have been ever so much wiser. Poppy waved her little basket backwards and forwards in her hand in her temper, and half the sweet fruit fell by the wayside and was crushed. Daisy began to ery, and when Mama met them in the hall she thought they looked a very uncomfortable little couple, and guessed directly that there was some- thing the matter. ; “What is it, dears?” she asked in her gentle way. The twins looked at one another, and Daisy’s eyes fell. So did Poppy’s. She knew the best thing would be to tell the whole truth, but some- how she could not, her tongue felt quite stiff, her lips would not move. “My dears, you have been quarrelling,” said Mama. “Daisy is a great silly,’ 2 grumbled Poppy. (479) B 18 THE TWINS. “Poppy called me a story,” cried Daisy, pouting. The little girls so seldom quarrelled that Mama looked quite astonished. “Go into the nursery, Daisy,” she said; “and, Poppy, you stay with me. Little girls who quarrel are not fit to be together.” Daisy ran away. Poppy hid her face in her mother’s lap and burst into tears. “JT am so sorry,” she sobbed out. But Mrs. Montrose did not know how much she had to be sorry for, or how very disobedient she had been. All the rest of the day the children were dull and miserable. “They have eaten too much,” said Papa; but Mama was puzzled, for she knew the twins were not greedy, and could not think what was wrong with them. However, the next day they nearly forgot all their troubles—little children do not remember things for very long together. Sometimes when they were not at play or lessons they thought of what they had done, and Polly wished very much that she could make up her mind to tell Mama; but she could not, so she tried hard not to think at all. Just before they went to bed Papa called them to him, and told them he had something to say to them. They both turned very red. A VISIT TO AUNT NELLIE. 19

“Why, you look as if you expected a scolding,” said Mama; and so they did. “Tnstead of that, I have some very good news,” put in Papa, looking very mysterious. “Oh! do tell, do tell,” cried both little girls, dancing round him, He would not at first, but began to tease a little and to make all sorts of jokes. But at last out it all came. To-morrow they were to go to the sea- side, to Margate; they might get out their spades and pails, and pack their dolls early next morning if they liked. The children were wild with delight; they hugged Papa and shouted for joy. Margate of all places, where there were niggers and a band, sands and cliffs. Could anything be more delight- ful? “But why are we going all of a minute, and before the holidays?” cried Daisy. ‘ “Because of the scarlet fever,” answered Mr. Montrose. “Mama is so afraid her pets might catch it.” Daisy said no more. Poppy hung her head. “Mama,” she began. “Yes, dear,” replied Mama, quite ready to listen. But unfortunately just at that moment Nurse came in to ask some questions about the little 20 THE TWINS. girls’ clothes and how many frocks she was to put in the box, and poor Poppy could not make up her mind to try again. She spoke of it to Daisy when they were in bed, but Daisy only told her not to make a fuss, and declared that she was very sleepy, too sleepy to talk. When morning came there was so much to do, that Poppy forgot her trouble. It was such a puzzle to know which doll to take and which to leave behind, and Nurse was quite certain all could not be packed, and that one apiece was enough for any little girls. Yet when they begged very hard to take some of their little china ones, she said: “Well, yes, you may, seeing they are so very tiny that they don’t take much room.” “T shall put in Willie, and Mary, and Susan,” cried Poppy. “And I,” said Daisy, “must take John and Maria, because they are just married. We married them only last Wednesday.” “Yes; but there is no need to take the clergy- man, he will not be wanted down there. No time for weddings at Margate, I am sure.” So the clergyman, a little doll Nurse had dressed for them in a long white surplice, was laid care- fully in a drawer. “These other dear dollies are very lucky,” said AT MARGATE, 21

Daisy, “to get such a nice change of air. Your Susan and my Maria are both looking pale and thin; but they will soon be quite themselves down at Margate.” Nurse laughed, as she generally did when the little girls talked about their dolls, for they always spoke as if they were real living children. Indeed, I think they sometimes made believe until they half imagined they were.

CHAPTER II AT MARGATE.

HERE was nothing in the world the children il liked better than a railway journey. And, indeed, a railway journey with Papa as a com- panion was far from a dull afiair. He was just about the liveliest person you could find. They had a carriage reserved for them, so no one else was disturbed by their fun. And what jokes they had, to be sure. Papa pretended to be very fright- ened if they went through a tunnel, and laid his head down on Poppy’s shoulder. “Tl protect you, Papa,” said little Daisy, trying to get her arms round him, but they were so short 22 THE TWINS. they would only go a very little way. Then when they came out into the light again, up he would spring as lively as ever; and there was nothing worth seeing on the road that he did not point out, of that you may be very sure. Their journey lasted quite five hours, and at two o'clock both the little girls began to feel it was dinner-time. ' “Poor little creatures!” exclaimed Papa. “You both look hungry, I declare. It is a thousand pities, I am sure, that we have not got anything to eat.” Then he dived under the seat, and out came a little hamper. At first Papa pretended he could not untie the string that fastened it. Then he made the lid fly open so suddenly that Poppy fell back all of a heap. But Daisy, peeping inside the basket, cried at the top of her little shrill voice: “Oh, Pop! there’s knives, and forks, and plates, and mugs, and ham, and chicken, and cake. And it will be just like a real proper picnic.” So it was; and what fun they had. The train was going so fast they hardly knew how to swallow their lemon- ade without spilling it; and Papa would make them drink ever so many healths. First it was the stationmaster’s, then the guard’s, then the stoker’s, then the engine-driver’s. Last, but not least, they drank the health of the prettiest and AT MARGATE, 23 most amiable lady in England. That was Mama. And Papa proposed the toast. No one was tired when the train slackened pace, and they steamed into Margate station. But every one was glad; for there was the sea stretching wide and blue, and little white boats upon it. There, too, were the sands, yellow and glistening. And what was that rattling sound? Why, the dear ugly old nigger with his great collar, stripped trousers, and red coat, rattling his bones as hard as he could. Papa and Mama did not think the niggers were such delightful creatures; but Poppy and Daisy were charmed to see them. Meanwhile Papa had found a fly, Nurse had collected the luggage, and in they all jumped. They drove along in front of the sea for a few minutes, and then Mama called to the flyman to stop, for they had already reached their apartments. Poppy and Daisy were glad they were just in front of the sea, and could hardly eat their tea for looking out of window. It was, “Oh, Papa, look at those dear little girls with the funny bonnets!” ‘Mama, dear, may we bathe to-mor- row?” and so on every minute. “We shall never go to sleep,” said Daisy. “ We shall be awake all night and listen to the splash, splash of the sea.” Yet at nine o’clock the two little girls lay side by side, and the sound of the 24 THE TWINS. waves did not reach them, for they lay slumbering, dreaming that Bones was having lunch with them in the train, and that Papa would drink his health out of Daisy’s wooden pail. It was the children’s habit, if they woke before they were called, to run into Mama and Papa’s room and creep into their bed until it was time to get up. They were allowed to do this after the clock had struck seven, not before; that would have been too early. They woke at six the morn- ing after their arrival. It was easy to tell the time, - for they counted the strokes of the church clock. “JT wish it was seven,” said impatient Poppy. “Let us tell each other tales until it is,” replied Daisy wisely. “It will make the time go quicker.” They did so; and at last the clock struck again. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!” they exclaimed in a breath, and were out of bed in a twinkling, slipping on their little pink dressing gowns and slippers. “This is a big, big house,” said Daisy; “and what a horrid lot of doors. I am sure I don’t know-which is Mama’s.” “T do!” said Poppy confidently. “It is that one over there. Don’t you remember?” Daisy did not, but she thought Poppy was sure to be right; so they ran across, turned the handle, AT MARGATE. 25 and entered. The room was rather dark, for the green blind was drawn down. They jumped into the bed, one on either side. ‘“ Wake up, you . naughty, lazy thing!” cried Poppy, with her little arms round the neck of one of the sleepers, and giving him quite a big shake as she spoke. “Mama! it is seven past,” said Daisy snuggling up close to the other. Then a very strange thing happened. A gentleman who was not Papa sat up in bed and burst out laughing, and a lady who was not Mama did the same. Not so the little girls. When they saw what a dreadful mistake they had made they looked at each other and began crying as loud as they could. It was hardly crying at all; indeed, more what Papa would call “a shocking howl.” “Tt is your fault,” said Daisy between her sobs, frowning at her sister. “T thought it was the right door. I did, I did,” answered poor Poppy. But neither of them seemed to have the sense left to jump out of bed and run back to their own room again. The gentleman, who was younger than Papa, tried very hard to leave off laughing, but could not succeed at first. When he did he put his arm round Poppy, and said in a good-natured way: 26 THE TWINS. “My dear, the noise you are making is frighten- ing me most dreadfully. In fact I am a great deal more frightened than you are. Don’t you think you could manage to leave off?” “Tl try,” said Poppy meekly, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her flannel gown, and wishing very much that she had a pocket-handkerchief. “We don’t bite,” said the gentleman. ‘We shan’t hurt you, we are as tame as tame can be.” The lady kissed Daisy just at that very moment, and when the child looked into her face she left off crying at once, and wondered why she had been foolish enough to do so at all. ““T am very sorry indeed,” she whispered. “I know it was dreadful bad manners; but indeed, in- deed we did not know.” “ And we don’t even know your name,” put in Poppy. ‘ We have not been introduced or any- thing.” “Well let us introduce ourselves,” said the gentleman, laughing again. “Jam Mr. Musgrave, and this lady is Mrs. Musgrave.” “T am Poppy Montrose, and that little girl is Daisy Montrose. She is my twin,” said Poppy, nodding her curly head and brightening up as she began to see that no one was shocked or angry. “Yes,” added Daisy; ‘we are exactly the same AT MARGATE. 27 age. Is it not funny? When Pop has a birthday so have I, and one big cake does for both.” “Have you any little children Mr. Musgrave?” asked Poppy. ‘We should like that very much, be- cause they could play with us on the sands. We like building immense big castles, and that takes a long time; the more people there are to build it, the quicker it gets done.” “No, we have not any little children,” said the gentleman ; “ but we are very fond of them. When I come to the sea-side I am quite a boy myself. I shouldn’t wonder a bit that I could help you build a castle.” “You and Papa together. Oh, how jolly!” cried Poppy, clapping her hands. “Pop,” said Daisy gravely, slipping out of bed, “Nurse will be wondering where we have got to. She will be wondering ever so.” ‘I guess we must go,” said Poppy. “ Good-bye Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave.” They lifted up their sweet little faces to kiss their new friends, and hand in hand trotted back to their room. Of course at breakfast the tale had to be told, and Papa and Mama were very much | amused. “T must apologize for my little girls,” said Papa. “What is apologize?” asked Poppy. 28 THE TWINS.

“ «Well, I must explain that it was a mistake, and that you did not mean to be rude.” ‘Oh, if that is apologize, we have done it already,” said Poppy. “ But they said it did not signify, they did not mind a bit.” Just at that moment voices were heard under the window. “There they are,” cried Poppy. ‘There are Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave.” So Papa ran down and made his excuses, and the children heard a good deal of laughing and talking. When it ceased they ran to the window, leaned out and kissed their hands. “We shall be on the sands presently; don’t for- get about the immense big castle,” said Poppy. “Not I,” answered Mr. Musgrave. After that the little ones had hardly sutlicient patience to finish eating their breakfasts; and when it was over it was quite a sight to see them run upstairs helter-skelter to be dressed. “Oh, Nursie, how lovely!” 12? exclaimed Poppy. “We need not wear nasty horrid gloves; Mama says we are only to put on our sun-bonnets and then we shall be quite fit for the beach.” “ Leave off dancing about then, Miss, and let me tie it for you.” Tt was just about as much as Nurse could man- AT MARGATE. 29 age, for the child found it hard to hold her head still, she was so full of excitement. “Make haste do, dear Nursie,” she pleaded. “Here is your bonnet.” “And here are your gloves,” putin Daisy. “Oh, never mind about seeing yourself in the glass. You look quite nice, and your hair is as smooth as smooth.” So poor Nurse was dragged out; one little girl seizing her by either hand, and both brimful of fun and pleasure. Nurse, like the children, loved the sea, and enjoyed watching the people on the sand and listening to the nigger’s songs. But as Margate is a very busy place, rather too busy in the season, she thought it better to take them to Cliftonville, which is the quietest end. They ran to the edge of the sea, and standing side by side looked down at the water as it crept up to their feet. “Tt is a lovely, lovely sound,” said Daisy softly. But Poppy, who was never quiet for many moments together, ran off for her spade and pail to dig a long channel for ‘the water to creep up. They were not lazy children by any means, and worked so hard that their little faces grew hot and flushed in spite of their shady linen bonnets, and Nurse feared they might overtire themselves. However, before very long Mama and Papa joined them, 30 THE TWINS. and the twins saw at once that the lady and gentleman with them were Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave. “Now for the great big castle,” cried Poppy, clapping her hands. And what a castle it was, to be sure. I don’t think a larger one has ever been built of sand, or a prettier one, for that matter. Poppy and Daisy were set to work to fetch all the green sea-weed they could find to lay out the garden round it. Then they found tiny stones for the gravel paths, and marked the whole out with small pieces of white chalk. All the while they were so busy some one was looking on, and the first person to see him was Mrs. Montrose, who loved all little folks and had a heart full of love and sympathy for any who were sad or sick. This was a little boy who stood leaning on crutches, with his dark eyes fixed upon them. He had a little thin face, and looked wistful, as if he would like to play too if he were able. Mrs. Montrose left the little group and joined him. “‘ Are you alone?” she said. His lip trembled and his eyes filled. “Papa is in India.” “ And you live here?” “Yes. At least I am at school here; but these are the holidays, and all the boys have gone home. AT MARGATE, 31

It is awfully lonely; you see I can’t dig in the sands or play, because of my legs.” He looked down at them sadly as he spoke. Poppy had left off digging to listen; now she threw down her spade and ran up to them. “Would you like to help?” she asked, smiling at him. “Yes; but I can’t run about, so I’m not any use.” “Tf you were to sit down right here on Mama’s camp-stool, you could help me stick the sea-weed in for a grass-plot. There must be a grass-plot to a castle of course, else the ladies and gentlemen would not have any place to play lawn-tennis. And everybody plays lawn-tennis now; my auntie says it is the fashionable game. But please what am I to call you?” “Tam Willie Blunt.” “That's a pretty name. And I’m Poppy. Come, Willie, there isn’t any time to lose; it will be dinner dreadfully soon.” So the new friends sat down, and for a while were too busy to talk. At last Poppy, who had been keeping very serious, looked up and said: “Do your legs hurt much, Willie?” Willie said no, but that his back was always tired; .so tired that he was unable to do as many 32 THE TWINS.

lessons as the other boys, and often could not sleep at nights. Poppy was very sorry about this; but as she did not quite know how to say so, she put her arm round his neck and kissed him. “ How old are you, Willie?” she asked. “Tm ten next birthday.” “And Iam only eight. I wish I was as big as you.” They could not say any more just then, for there was a great shouting—Papa, and Daisy, and Mr. Musgrave all crying “ Hurrah!” “Took! look!” cried Willie; “they have stuck a big flag on the top of the castle.” And so they had. Mrs. Musgrave had been to buy one, and there it was fluttering in the breeze in such a way that even the niggers stopped to look. Willie was as gay as any of them, and par- ticularly pleased with the tennis-ground, which he and Poppy had finished very neatly. Indeed they were all sorry to find that it was the dinner-hour, but no one more so than the little cripple. “T sha’n’t ever see you again perhaps,” he said sadly, taking Poppy by the hand and looking nearly ready to cry. “Mama,” said Daisy, “we shail see Willie Blunt again, sha’n’t we?” Mama, who had been watching the boy very AT MARGATE, 33 closely, and had quite made up her mind that he would be a suitable companion for her little girls, smiled kindly. “Yes, Daisy,” she said. “I know a little of Miss Latham, the lady with whom he lives, and when I call upon her I think she will be quite willing to let him play with you.” Willie still looked doubtful. “Oh, I hope she will,” he cried; “but she is an awfully nervous person. She is always afraid of my catching something. She says people come here when they are getting better from the chicken-pox, and measles, and scarlet fever.” “Miss Latham is quite right to be careful; but Tam careful too. If my little girls had been near any one who was ill, and the illness was catching, I should not have let them speak to you.. One cannot be too particular.” “But, Mama,” cried Poppy, with a red face, “we could not give him scarlet fever if we had not got it ourselves.” “T am not so sure of that, my love; you might carry it in your clothes.” “Carry what, Mama,—the catchingness?” Every one laughed but Poppy. “Why, yes,” replied Mrs. Montrose, seeing that she waited for an answer. - (479) c 34 THE TWINS. Then the child turned away from the elder folks and joined her sister. “Daisy,” she said, touching her white frock, “don’t you remember that we had these frocks on when we went to see Sarah Anne. Oh! I do wish we had told.” “You are a nasty, bothering thing,” said Daisy crossly. “What a fuss you make. What can it signify? It is ages and ages ago since we went to see Sarah Anne.” | “No, it is not,” cried Poppy. “It was only the day before yesterday. Oh! I do wish I could tell Mama; but I can’t. When I try to, some- thing comes up in my throat.” “What does it feel like, Pop?” “Oh! I don’t know. All horrid and choky,” cried Poppy, clasping her little hands round her neck. “Fiddlesticks!” grumbled Daisy, that being Nurse’s favourite word. “Oh! Pop! Pop! there is an organ-man with a funny monkey that has a red coat on. Let us go and see.” Off they ran at the top of their speed; but Poppy did not find the monkey half so droll as she expected. She had something on her mind, you see. THE FRUIT OF DISOBEDIENCE, 35

CHAPTER III.

THE FRUIT OF DISOBEDIENCE,

M*™, MONTROSE was rather surprised that the children gave no sign of pleasure when ten days later she proposed to take them with her to call on Miss Latham. She had quite expected a shout of glee, but instead of this they merely kept their places by the window, Daisy looking a trifle sulky, Poppy flushed and uncomfortable. “Have you altered your minds, my dears?” said their mama. “Do you not wish to have Willie as a companion? Why, only yesterday you were begging me to invite him to tea, and that, as you very well know, I cannot do until I have asked permission of his governess.” “Indeed, Mama, we do want him very much.” “And yet you are not willing to give up your play for one morning in order to go with me and see about it. I am sorry my little girls are so selfish. Well, I can go by myself just as well.” And Mrs. Montrose walked off, looking quite hurt. She had not gone far before she heard little feet pursuing her, and turning, saw Daisy out of breath with running. 36 THE TWINS.

“ Please take me, Mama,” she cried. “What! without Poppy? I thought you were never happy apart.” “Pop won't come; she is a great silly,” stam- mered the child. Mrs. Montrose took her hand, but made no remark. She was puzzled. Meanwhile Poppy, whose conscience was telling her all sorts of things, walked down to the shore at Nurse’s side, grumbling at the sun in a very discontented way, and declaring that she could not play alone. Nurse was speaking to one of her friends, and did not waste her time talking to an ill-tempered little girl; so that Poppy had no one to quarrel with, although she was just in the mood to do so. So she sat apart, and wished with all her heart that she was brave enough to tell all about Sarah Anne and the scarlet fever. It was very well for Daisy to pretend it was nothing, and that there was no harm in what they had done; but Poppy knew better. She could think of no- thing else. After a while Mrs. Musgrave, who was sitting a little distance off, saw the child, and called her to her. Poppy went at once, walking slowly, and dragging her spade and pail after her in a very listless fashion. “Why, what is the matter, Puss?” asked the lady. ‘You look serious ” THE FRUIT OF DISOBEDIENCE. 37

Poppy settled down beside her. ‘I feel serious,” she said. “I am thinking about something very serious indeed. Perhaps you can tell me, Mrs. Musgrave, how long it is before you begin to have scarlet fever?” “T do not understand, love.” “Tf you had caught it, I mean,” said the child impatiently, “how long would it be before you came out red all over?” “J think about a fortnight, dear; but what a funny question!” “T don’t think it is funny, Mrs. Musgrave; and it would not be at all funny to catch it.” “Not by any means. But who is going to catch it? Not you, I hope.” “T hope not, too,” continued the little girl. “Tt would be horrid. And if it was my own fault it would be horrider still.” “Tt could not well be a person’s own fault,” said Mrs. Musgrave laughing. “No one would be ill on purpose, I suppose.” Poppy neither said yes nor no, but she looked more serious than ever. When Mrs. Montrose joined them she was surprised that her news did not make Poppy more cheerful. She had seen Miss Latham, and arranged for Willie to come to tea that very night. Miss Latham had consented 38 THE TWINS.

willingly on being assured that there was no danger of their having brought any infectious disease from home with them. “But, Mama,” said Poppy, “perhaps it is not safe; there was scarlet fever at home, Sarah Anne Saunders had it. Suppose we were to have it too?” “What nonsense, child; you had nothing to do with Sarah Anne. If I had let you go to see her as you wished it might have been very different.” “T would not talk about it too much,” whispered - Mrs. Musgrave. “The child is evidently ex- tremely nervous;” so no more was said on the subject. But it was not till Willie Blunt arrived that Poppy brightened up. Up to then she kept saying to herself, over and over again, “ We have been here a fortnight to-day, and Mrs Musgrave said it would be a fortnight before a person got red all over. Oh, dear! What should I do if Daisy caught it?” It was Daisy she was frightened about; all the more so because she was so very pale to-night, and could not eat her tea, though there were some beautiful red and white currants, and a lovely plum cake, of which she was particularly fond. Poppy felt quite cross with her for keeping on saying that THE FRUIT OF DISOBEDIENCE. 39 she was not hungry. She ought to be hungry with such nice things on the table. Only last night she had eaten ever so much plain bread and butter, which is not nearly so tempting as cake and red currants. But when she was sick after tea, and had to lie down on the sofa, Poppy was no longer cross, only very much alarmed. She and Willie went off together to play, but the boy soon saw that his little hostess was too dull and miserable even to help him put a puzzle together, and that she hardly heard a word he was saying to her. “Poppy dear,” he asked gently, “shall I tell you a story?” “A story,” cried Poppy, bursting into tears. “Oh, don’t talk about stories. I told a story myself to-day to mother; at least I did not exactly. tell it, but I let her believe something that wasn’t true. It was awfully, dreadfully wicked and de- ceitful. And when she knows about it she will never love me again, never, never, never!” That was all her friend could get her to say, though he was very kind and wiped away her tears with his own little spotted pocket-handker- chief, the very one in which he had tied up some cockles in the afternoon. If Mama had come in just then she would soon have found out that her little girl had been crying; but she was busy put- 40 THE TWINS.

ting Daisy to bed, and she looked quite sad and anxious when she called the others in to have their supper. When Poppy crept into bed Daisy was sleeping, but she did not look at all like herself. “So flushed!” exclaimed Papa. Poppy shuddered and looked very close. Would Daisy get spots over her like Sarah Anne Saunders, she wondered? “Tt is that nasty paddling,” said Mama. “T was afraid the sun would be too hot on their heads.” “Poor little maiden,” said Papa, kissing the slumbering child. ‘Don’t wake her up, Poppy, ‘whatever you do.” “No,” said Poppy gravely. ‘And it was the sun that made her ill, wasn’t it, Mama?” “T expect so, my pet. I dare say Daisy will be quite well in the morning.” “Oh, yes! I am sure she will,” said Poppy cheerfully; but for all that she lay awake for quite half an hour thinking. All through the night Daisy was restless. In the morning, the moment Poppy awoke she sat upright to look at her sister. “Oh, Daisy, Daisy!” she cried, “you are red all over like Sarah Anne. It is the scarlet fever.” Daisy opened her eyes very wide, but they had no expression in them, they looked dim and dazed. THE FRUIT OF DISOBEDIENCE. 41 “Good morning, Mama,” she said, staring at Poppy. “JT am not Mama, you little goosie. I am Poppy.” “Poppies grow in the fields at. home, all among the corn, and corn-flowers too. Pick mea lot; I want a great big bunch,” said Daisy in the same odd way. “J don’t want to play now, and I don’t see any good in talking nonsense,” answered Poppy testily. “J wish you would not be so silly.” “Silly, silly, silly,” whispered Daisy over and over again, till Poppy put her fingers in her ears so as not to hear it any more. She did not like the look of her little sister’s face, it was so red, and her voice was strange and thick; besides which, she kept rolling her head from side to side on the pillow, and evidently did not know her at all, though she kept touching her and calling her by her name. Poppy was dreadfully frightened. Not knowing what to do, she jumped out of bed, and stood still in the middle of the floor in order to consider. “T must tell. I must tell,” she cried at last, and her little face turned as pale as her sister’s was red. She opened the door of Nurse’s room, which led out of her’s, and knew that it must be early 42 THE TWINS. yet, because Nurse lay sleeping, snoring very loud indeed. But Poppy did not think it signified at all whether it was early or late. Daisy was ill, and of course Mama must come to her. A moment’s more thought and the child was in her mother’s room, the pretty pink dressing-gown and warm knitted slippers left behind this time. “My pet!” cried Mama, starting up from her sleep in terror, “what is it?) You have nothing on, you will catch your death of cold!” “Oh, Mama! dear Mama! What does that matter? Daisy is ill; she is talking all sorts of nonsense, and her face is as red as red, and she thought Iwas you. It zs scarlet fever. I know it is. I gave it to her myself. I am sure I did. We got it off Sarah Anne, and we had our white frocks on. And oh, Mama! Mama! perhaps we have given it to you, and Papa, and Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave, and Willie Blunt.” Here the little girl burst into floods of tears, and they could hear little of what she said except that she was “Oh, so sorry,” and that she and Daisy were both very wicked, but she was wickeder than Daisy ever so much. Mrs. Montrose did not stop to hear all this, she flew across to the sick child; and Poppy, lying beside her father, sobbed as if her heart would THE FRUIT OF DISOBEDIENCE, 43 break. He was very patient and gentle; but when the whole truth came out Poppy knew that she had never seen him look so grieved before. “To think,” he said sadly, “that my little girls should have been so disobedient, so deceitful. There have been so many opportunities for you to tell, so many times when you could have come to us and said, ‘We disobeyed you, but we are very, very sorry.’” “Yes, I know, I know,” gasped Poppy. ‘“ And oh! I have wanted to tell so much, only a horrid thing came up in my throat, and I couldn't. I seemed as if I would choke. Oh, Papa! Papa! do forgive me. I will never be so naughty again. You will forgive me, won’t you; if God won’t, you will?” Then Papa explained to her that God loved her, so he would be sure to forgive her; and that he, her papa, loved her too, and was not angry, only grieved. “T ought to be punished,” cried poor Poppy. _ “No,” said Papa, “I don’t mean to punish you. When you do wrong, punishment is sure to follow of itself.” “T don’t understand, Papa.” “You will if you think for a moment, my dear.” Poppy pushed her hair out of her eyes and tried 44 THE TWINS. to think as well as she could, though her head! ached dreadfully. “T-know what the punishment is,” she said at last. “It is Daisy’s being ill, and my being miserable, and you and Mama being so dreadfully sorry.” “Yes, all that, my love; and I trust there may be nothing worse,” said Papa looking very anxious, and with great puckers in his forehead that were not often there. Poppy jumped out of the bed, and kneeling down beside it buried her little swollen face in the clothes, and whispered very low. “ Please God forgive me, because Papa and Mama have; and please God make Daisy better, and send the horrid red spots right away.” She felt all the better for saying this little prayer, and was quiet and grave when Nurse came to fetch her; and very helpful in fastening her own clothes, besides standing quite still and never moving her head an inch to one side or the other when Nurse combed her hair, not even when she gave an acci- dental pull which hurt a good deal. Breakfast was a very strange meal. Papa and Poppy were alone together, and before it was quite over the doctor came. He looked very grave when he came downstairs again after seeing Daisy, and so THE FRUIT OF DISOBEDIENCE. 45 did the other grown-up folks; but Poppy felt much happier herself for having told the whole truth, and was beginning to think everything would be all right soon. It was dull though to sit by her- self in the dining-room when the sun was so bright, the sky so blue, the sea so sparkling, and the sands covered with merry little diggers. Poppy won- dered whether she would go out soon with Nurse; but Nurse never came near her nor did Papa. The child leant out of the window and began to think of Willie Blunt, and to fancy that she quite under- stood now how lonely he must feel when he could not join the other children in their play. At last Mama came in and Poppy spoke. “Mama, may I go and speak to Mrs. Musgrave.” “Certainly not, my dear; it is quite likely they may be afraid of contagion. Daisy has scarlet fever, and Dr. North considers it a serious case.” “ But, Mama, I could put on another frock.” “My dear child, you will have to keep away from everyone.” : “Mustn’t I speak to Willie?” “Indeed no! I think, dear Poppy, after what has happened that I need not fear your disobeying me a second time.” “No, Mama,” answered Poppy humbly. “You must know,” continued Mama, speaking 46 : THE TWINS. very seriously, “that your disobedience is causing sad inconvenience to Papa and me. Our landlady will not be able to let the other rooms in the house, and we shall have a great deal of money to pay. Then again we are most anxious about Willie Blunt; if my little girls had told me the truth they would have prevented me from calling on Miss Latham, and perhaps saved Willie a serious illness.” “T knew I ought to tell. That is why I would not come with you,” said Poppy. Here she began to cry again, and I really think she had good reason.

CHAPTER IV.

DAISY’S ILLNESS. be perhaps the greatest trouble Poppy had at this time was being shut out from her sister; she longed to go and sit beside her, and it was, of course, impossible. The days passed slowly and wearily. Nurse took Poppy down to the shore; but she never would let her speak to any other child, and the poor little thing found digging alone very slow work. She used to stand and watch the DAISY’S ILLNESS. 47 merry little groups of boys and girls from a dis- tance, and the more cheerfully they laughed and talked the more dull did she feel. One afternoon Papa took her out and gave her a donkey-ride. “Oh, how Daisy would like to be here,” said Poppy with a sigh. Papa did not answer, and the little girl thought he looked dreadfully sad. He smiled with his lips to be sure when the donkey-boy started the donkey off at a canter, and Poppy passed him with her bright hair waving in the breeze, and her cheeks glowing; but it was only with his lips, his eyes were quite grave. It seemed to the little girl that grown-up per sons were rather fussy. Of course Daisy would soon be well; she had been in bed for more than a week now, and when she was running about again

Nurse would have to leave off sighing, and the doctor would have no reason to shake his silly old head, and speak in that nasty low voice of his, which made everything sound like a secret. Poppy thought it was very rude even to look as if you did not want persons to hear what you said. Mama always said, “Speak out, my dear, it is not polite to whisper,” if she spoke to Daisy in a low voice, and Poppy would have liked to do the same by Dr. North. 48 THE TWINS.

“T think he ought to know better,” she used to say to Nurse; “besides I want to hear all about Daisy, too, and I think he ought to tell me, because T am her twin.” Dr. North drove by just at this very moment, and seeing Mr. Montrose stopped his carriage at once. Poppy pulled her donkey up short, and held her head in the air. The whispering had begun again, and she thought they would see by her looks just what she thought of it. But they never glanced in her direction, so she need not have tried - to look cross and grand. Mr. Montrose was lean- ing over the side of Dr. North’s brougham, listen- ing very attentively to what he said; once he put his hand to his eyes and kept it there for quite a long while. Poppy thought that was because the sun was so very strong, and wished that it was proper for gentlemen to carry parasols. Of course their eyes were no better able to bear too much light than ladies’ were, and they could not wear comfortable shady hats, or cool white sun-bonnets like Daisy and herself. Poppy felt sure this was a great mistake, because when Papa joined her again she saw that his eyes were quite wet, and could not meet her’s when she raised them to his face. “What does Dr. North say?” asked the little DAISY’S ILLNESS. 49 girl, “When will Daisy be able to have a aonxey- ride, I wonder? When she does she shall have this very one I amon. He is a good donkey and his name is Sam. The donkey-boy is Tom Ford. He told me so. And he has to work very hard, for his mother is poor and his father has not got any work. Papa, how soon will Daisy be able to go jiggety-jog on a donkey with me? She must be pretty strong first, because it shakes one up so, and it isn’t nice to be shaken up after one has had the scarlet fever. I feel rather funny myself. I think I will get down. Good-bye, Tom Ford. Please take care of Sam, and be very kind to him.” After this long speech Poppy let Papa lift her off, and walked away with her hand in his, wonder- ing why he did not answer her. “Papa,” she said again, after they had kept silence for a very long while, “when will Daisy be well enough to have a ride with me?” Papa sat down and drew the little girl close to him. “Poppy,” he said, “Daisy is very ill: so weak that she cannot speak or eat. Dr. North is most anxious.” “You were asking him about her, weren’t you, Papa? What did he say just now? Papa, dear Papa! Surely you are not crying!” (479) D 50 THE TWINS.

Poppy s voice rose to a frightened shriek, for the tears were in her father’s eyes. Surely something very dreadful must have happened. “My darling,” said Papa gently, “ sometimes Mama and I fear that our dear Daisy will never be able to run about again; sometimes we think that we shall never see her cheeks bright and rosy as they used to be, or hear her merry voice and laugh.” “Oh, no, don’t say that, it can’t be true,” pleaded the little girl, wringing her hands. “Whatever happens, God knows best; but it is sad, very sad,” continued her father, speaking more to himself than to her. Indeed he had not meant _to say anything to alarm her, the words had been dragged from him by the shock of what Dr. North had said. When he saw how troubled she was he tried his best to soothe her. But Poppy would not be soothed. She drew her hand away, and ran off at the top of her speed. “T must go and see my dear Daisy,” she cried. Oh, Papa, Papa! do not stop me.” He could not at first, for she sped along swiftly, dashing past every. one and pushing aside all who were in her path. Not until she reached their lodgings did her father overtake her. Then he was out of breath and panting. DAISY’S ILLNESS, 51 “My dear child,” he said, “why are you hurry- ing so? What were you saying?” “T must go and see my dear Daisy,” repeated Poppy, turning her face towards him. Papa laid his hands upon her shoulders, ‘““My dear, you must understand once for all that it is impossible. Promise me you will re- member that your Mama and I strictly forbid you to go near her room. We are in great sorrow about our dear little girl, we should be in deeper grief still were you to fall ill. And you cannot have forgotten so soon that had you not been dis- obedient before this misfortune would not have come upon us.” Poppy was sobered in a moment. She lifted her eyes to her father’s face, and said solemnly: “I do want to see Daisy ever so much, Papa. You see I am so fond of her because she is my twin; but I have not forgotten, so I promise.” The tears were rolling down her cheeks as she passed the door of her little sister’s bed-room, but she never looked that way. Mama and Nurse were both in there, she could hear them speaking very soft and low. Why did every one whisper? < she wondered. It would be much more cheerful if they spoke in their natural voices. Tea was laid in the dining-room, and Poppy was very 52 THE TWINS. hungry after her ride, but no one came. The little girl fetched a cosy from the side-board drawer, and slipped it over the tea-pot. “There now, try and keep hot, silly thing,” she said. “I have put your night-cap on, for grown- up folks like their tea scalding hot.” The window was open and the evening breeze blew softly, bringing with it the scent of the climatis that grew up the side of the house. Poppy sat down patiently with her doll upon her lap and waited. Presently a little parcel wrapped in paper came spinning across the room and alighted on . dolly’s white frock. Poppy sprang to her feet_in great excitement. It seemed to have come from the street below. Who could have thrown it! She ran to the window in a tremendous hurry. There stood Willie Blunt leaning on his crutches and laughing. “Qh it was you, Willie, was it?” she cried; “TI never thought of you. Thank you very much.” “But you don’t know what is in the parcel; it might be a black bettle,” answered he, “then it would be thank you for nothing.” “JT don’t believe it is anything at all nasty, but I will open it and see. Don’t run away, Willie.” “T don’t mean to run away; I like to look at DAISY’S ILLNESS. 53 you. Stand just there, Poppy, and see what is in the parcel.” Poppy tore the paper off, and found a big packet of butter-Scotch, a sweetmeat of which Willie knew her to be particularly fond. No wonder he liked to look at her, there is nothing pleasanter to see than a happy, smiling face, and Poppy’s was both. She was always grateful for any kindness shown to her. “Oh! you dear, good Willie,” she cried, “I wish I might come down and kiss you.” “Mightn’t you, Poppy?” “No, Papa said not; I promised, but I should like to, awfully.” “Tf you promised not, of course you couldn't, A boy wouldn’t be a gentleman if he broke his promise, so I suppose a girl wouldn’t be a lady.” “That is just it,” put in Mr. Montrose. He had come in unobserved and stood looking over Poppy’s shoulder. “Tam sorry I can’t ask you up, little man,” continued he, “for. Poppy is lonely without Daisy, and Mama and I are not cheerful compan- ions just now.” “May I come and talk to her a bit eyery day, sir? I can’t catch anything all this way off.” “Yes, come by all means, just for a few minutes.” 54 THE TWINS.

“Thank you, sir. Good evening.” Willie lifted his hat like the little gentleman he wished to be, and which, had he but known it, he already was; for there is no surer mark of a gentleman than the kind obliging ways which come quite naturally to those who have good hearts. “T am afraid you are desperately hungry, Poppy,” said Papa. Poppy glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece, the hands pointed to seven. “T am rather,” she said, beginning on her bread ‘and butter in a way that made Papa think the rather yust mean very. He did not eat much him- self, however, although it was so late, and there was still a great sadness in his eyes. Poppy, who had been gradually recovering her spirits, grew grave again; and though she helped herself to a good many slices of bread and butter, because it was so very long since dinner, they did not taste nearly so nice as usual. She was not sorry either when it was half-past eight, and Papa reminded her that it was bed-time. He told her at the same time that he should like her to say her prayers to him before she went upstairs. He was sitting in the arm-chair, and she knelt down at once and began in a low serious voice, speaking slowly and dis- DAISY’S ILLNESS. 55 tinctly, just as her Mama had taught her, When she came to ‘Pray, God, bless Papa, and Mama, and Daisy,” her voice trembled so much that she. was obliged to leave off altogether. Papa laid his hand upon her little curly head, and said gently: “Tf it please Thee, O God, let us keep our dar- ling Daisy.” “Please, God, make Daisy well,” pleaded Poppy with a sob. Then she rose to her feet, kissed her father, and ran upstairs, pausing a moment at her sister’s door. She could hear Daisy talking in that odd voice that was not a bit like her own, and could even distinguish the words she said. Tt was all about Floss, the little pet dog they had left behind them at home, and she spoke as if it were in the room with her. “Let me put your collar on, naughty Floss,” she cried; “why don’t you sit still?” This sounded cheerful enough; but all of a sudden her voice changed to a fretful cry. ‘Oh, Mama, Mama, I want Poppy,” she complained, “I am so very lonely. Why does she not come and see me? Oh, Poppy, Poppy, dear, I do want you so.” It was all her sister could do to prevent running in; it made her heart ache to think that Daisy should ask for her so piteously, and all in vain. Why might she not see her for a moment, just to 56 THE TWINS. give her one kiss and tell her that it was through no fault of her own that she stayed away? Her little hand found its way to the door handle and rested there. Should she turn it and enter? It could not do much harm; she would be chased out again at once, of course, but she would at least have caught a glimpse of Daisy. These thoughts and longings quite filled the little girl’s mind for a few moments; then conscience began to whisper better things. “No, no, I will not do it. I promised,” cried Poppy, running off to her own bed-room as fast as her legs would carry her. Nurse met her with the usual “hush, dear,” to which she was pretty well accustomed by now, and for the first time Poppy noticed how tired she looked, and that her eyes were red as if she had been crying. “Ts Daisy worse?” asked Poppy anxiously. “Indeed and she is, poor lamb,” replied Nurse shaking her head. That was all she would say; and though she made believe she was not crying at all, only using her pocket-handkerchief, Poppy knew better. “Tf Daisy dies and goes to heaven I won’t be left behind,” she cried passionately. “ Daisy and I are twins, and we mustn’t be separated. Papa and Mama both say that twins are fonder of one an- DAISY’S ILLNESS. 57 other than any other kind of children. So of course it wouldn’t be fair of God to take Daisy away.” “Hush! Miss Poppy. It is very wrong indeed for little girls to talk like that.” “T won't hush, Nurse,” answered the little girl with big tears rolling down her cheeks. But she left off talking for all that, and lay quite still with her eyes closed. At first it seemed to be of no use to try and go to sleep, but by and by without knowing how she dropped off, for she was very tired, and it was long past her usual bed-time. In the middle of the night she awoke and began to wonder directly how Daisy was. She wondered so much that she could not lie still any longer. “T will go and ask Nurse,” she said, springing out of bed and pattering across to the next room; but with dressing-gown and shoes on, for Poppy had not forgotten that Mama was always anxious about her catching cold. She did not mean to startle Nurse if she could help it, so she stepped lightly and on tip-toe; it was no fault of hers that the nasty boards would creak. “Nurse,” she whispered softly. No answer. “Nurse,” a little louder still; but no one spoke. Poppy grew impatient; she advanced to the bed- side and felt for Nurse’s shoulder, she would give 58 THE TWINS. it just the least little shake in the world. But strange to say the bed was empty. Poppy was frightened, there is no denying that, dreadfully frightened. Whatever could have be- come of poor old Nurse? It was very tiresome when she had made up her mind, too, to find out how Daisy was. Well, Mama would tell her, she knew, nor did she fear being scolded for disturbing her. It was only natural that twins should be anxious about one another. But another and a greater disappointment awaited poor Poppy. Neither Mama nor Papa were to be found. The gas burned brightly in their room, but the bed was smooth and creaseless. It was quite clear no one had slept there at all. This was really alarm- ing, things were getting worse and worse. With heart beating fast she ran downstairs, and with- out a moment’s hesitation knocked at the door of Daisy’s room. No one heard her. She stood shivering outside; within there was the sound of subdued sobbing. Poppy knocked again, it was more than she could bear. This time the door was opened and Dr. North stood on the threshold. She pushed past him and peeped in. It was Nurse who was crying. Daisy lay in Mama’s arms. Papa’s face was hidden by his hands, but he raised it when Poppy called to him and turned to- DAISY’S ILLNESS. 59 wards the doctor. “I think she had better come in,” he said gently. “Perhaps you are right,” answered the doctor; “it may give our little patient a better chance.” He spoke very low, but Poppy heard every word. She flew past him in a moment, and climbing on the bed twined her arms about her sister. Was it really Daisy who lay there, merry laughing Daisy, now alas! so still and white. Why even her voice was different, quite feeble and broken. “Pop,” she whispered, “dear, darling Pop.” * Are you better?” asked Poppy. “Oh, Daisy, say you are better.” “No, no, I can’t. I am not better, and I sha’n’t ever be. I am going to die, Poppy dear. But it doesn’t signify; I shall be ever so happy up in heaven with God and the white angels, and all of you will come to me by and by. Papa says so. I was just talking about you, and waiting to say good-bye; so Mama said she would go and fetch you. Kiss me, Poppy dear.” Poppy did so over and over again; but she could not speak at all, because she was crying very bitterly. 60 THE TWINS.

CHAPTER V. A HAPPY MEETING.

T was Dr. North who had told Mr, and Mrs. +L Montrose that he feared their dear little Daisy would not live many hours longer. If it had not been for this Poppy would never have been allowed to enter her room. But her mother and father felt that they could not keep the children apart any longer, and could hardly bear to listen to Daisy’s entreaties that she might see Poppy, She never left off begging, and at last they found it quite impossible to refuse to grant the request; for Papa and Mama loved her so that they would gladly have given their lives for hers. But God, who is so very good, asked no such sacrifice of them, and in spite of Dr. North’s doubts and fears Daisy was spared to them. The cleverest of doctors make mistakes sometimes. The very next day they saw a difference in her; her pulse was better, her eyes a trifie less dim, her voice stronger, and she was able to swallow a little of the beauti- ful jelly Mrs. Musgrave had sent. But Poppy was not permitted to see her again, and as soon as Daisy was considered out of danger A HAPPY MEETING. 61 Poppy was sent home with Nurse. Very dull it was in the big house; for weeks the rain fell almost ~ incessantly, and the autumn leaves lay brown and soddes »n the ground. Poppy wandered up and down stairs, and looked at the gray sky and slant- ing rain. She had a cold, and her head ached. Nurse grew very anxious, and would place the handle of a nasty cold tea-spoon on her tongue, and look down her throat every morning. But it was not a bit sore all the time. Poppy was far from happy; for though the news about Daisy was good something very distressing had happened. The day after Willie Blunt had given her the butter- Scotch he had fallen ill, and of course it turned out to be that horrid scarlet fever. There seemed no end to the punishment for her disobedience. Papa had been quite right in saying that it would come of itself. As the weeks grew into months the child’s bright spirits flagged, and she had no heart to play. But at last, when she had grown quite weary with expectation, the looked-for letter came. In a week the travellers would return. “ A week! only a week!” cried Poppy, dancing with glee. But oh! how slowly the week passed. The child could neither sleep nor eat properly, and Nurse was in a dreadful way. At last, late in October, when the air was crisp, 62 THE TWINS. and Poppy declared she could “smell winter,” the little party returned. Poppy, and Floss, and Nurse were on the platform awaiting their arrival. When the train stopped Floss gave an excited yelp, and Poppy shouted for joy. There they were, first Papa, then Mama, then Daisy, ever so much taller, and closely wrapped in soft warm furs. But who was that little boy? Not Willie Blunt! That could not be! Yes, Willie Blunt, by all that was wonderful. Willie Blunt, brought home to Springbourne to get well and strong, and drink the rich cream, and breathe the fresh country air. Was there ever such a happy meeting? Never, surely! Poppy’s appetite came back, so did her smiles and dimples. But she could not get on fast with her cake, because she left off every few minutes to throw her arms round Daisy’s neck. And Mama and Papa were happy, too, if looks go for anything. There was only one thing to regret, and that was that Aunt Nellie and Grandma were not there to welcome them and join in their happiness. But even that would soon be set right, for a letter arrived that very evening, full of kind messages and congratulations. Aunt Nellie was at Bourne- mouth with Grandma, who was never very strong. A HAPPY MEETING. : 63

But she was much better now, and in a few days they would be home again. “Hurrah! Hurrah!” cried the children; and Willie Blunt joined in quite as heartily. At last came bed-time, although the little girls declared, as they always did, that it was ever so much too soon. Poppy, who had been laughing and talking more than any one, grew suddenly sober as she threw her arms around her father’s neck, and when she and Daisy knelt down side by side to repeat their evening prayer, she folded her hands, and said softly: “Thank you, dear kind God, for making Daisy and Willie well; and, please, when I am going to be dis- obedient again, make me remember all about Sarah Anne Saunders”

THE END. A SELECTION OF _ BLACKIE & SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. SUITABLE FOR GIFTS. FOR SCHOOL LIBRARIES, FOR PRIZES.

BLACKIE’S HALF-CROWN SERIES. Tllustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant. The Secret of the Old House: A Story for Children. By Everyn EVERETT-GREEN. “A really pretty narrative.” —Graphic. Hal Hungerford: Or, The Strange Adventures of a Boy Emigrant. By J. R. Hurcuinson, B.A. ‘A distinct literary success.” —Spectator. The Golden Weathercock. By Juria Goppanrp. ‘Full of pretty and ingenious ideas.”—Saturday Review. The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds. By Dr. Gorpon Srasies. ‘‘A thorough boy’s book.” —Schoolmaster. Miriam’s Ambition: A Story for Children. By Evutyn EvErert- GREEN. Will delight the children who are happy enough to get it.”—Freeman. White Lilae: Or, The Queen of the May. By Amy Watton. “From first to last absorbing almost to the point of fascination.”—Daily Mail. Little Lady Clare. By Evutyn Evereri-Green. “Certainly one of the prettiest, reminding us in its quaintness and tender pathos of Mrs. Ewing’s delightful tales.”—Literary World. The Saucy May. By Henry Fnriru. “A pook both interesting and exciting.”—Spectator. The Brig ‘‘Audacious.” By Aan Cots. “Fresh and wholesome as a breath of sea-air in tone.”—Court Journal. Jasper’s Conquest. By Extzasera J. Lysacur. “One of the best boys’ books of the season.” —Schoolmaster. Sturdy and Strong: Or, How George Andrews made his Way. By G. A. Henry. “The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth and innate pluck carry him, naturally, from poverty to affluence.”—The Empire 2 BLACKIE AND SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.

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Gutta-Percha Willie: The Working Genius. By Gzorez Mao Donat. “ Get it for your boys and girls to read for themselves, and if they can’t do that read it to them.”—Practical Teacher. The War of the Axe: Or Adventures in South Africa. By J. Percy-Groves. The story is well and brilliantly told.”—Literary World. The Eversley Secrets. By Evetyn Everert-Green. “Is one of the best children’s stories of the year.”—Academy. The Lads of Little Clayton. By R. Sreap. “A capital book for boys, and may be read to a class with great profit.”—School- master. Ten Boys who lived on the Road from Long Ago to Now. By JANE ANDREWS. With 20 Illustrations. “Really attractive and brightly written.’—Saturday Review. Winnie’s Secret: A Story of Faith and Patience. By Kats Woop. “The style is sure to win the hearts of young folks."—Pictorial World. A Waif of the Sea: Or the Lost Found. By Kars Woop. “Written with tenderness and grace.”— Morning Advertiser. The Joyous Story of Toto. By Lavra E. Bicuarps. With 30 humorous and fanciful Illustrations by E. H. Garrerr. “Should take its place beside Lewis Carroll’s unique works.” —Birmingham Gaz. Miss Willowburn’s Offer. By Saran Dovupyey. ‘*Itis a careful, well executed, and cheery study of English still life.” —Academy. A Garland for Girls. By Louisa M. Atcort. “These little tales are the beau ideal of girls’ stories.’—Christian World. Hetty Gray: Or Nobody’s Bairn. By Rosa MunHoLuanp. “A charming story for young folks. Hetty is a delightful creature.” World. Brothers in Arms: A Story of the Crusades. By F. B. Harrison. “One of the best accounts of the Crusades we have read.” —Schoolmistress. The Ball of Fortune. By Cuarztms Puarcz. “A capital story for boys. There is plenty of incident.”—Journal of Education. Miss Fenwick’s Failures. By Est Sruarr. “A girl true to real life, who will put no nonsense into young heads.’ —Graphic. BLACKIE AND SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 3

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Gytha’s Message: A Tale of Saxon England. By Emma Leste. “The sort of book that all girls and some boys like.”—Journal of Education. My Mistress the Queen: A Tale of the 17th Century. By M. A. Pav. “The style is pure and graceful, and the story is full of interest.”—Scotsman. Jack o’ Lanthorn: A Tale of Adventure. By Henry Frrra. “The narrative is crushed full of stirring incident.”—Christian Leader. The Family Failing. By Darter Datz. “Tt is a capital lesson on the value of contentedness.”— Aberdeen Journal. The Stories of Wasa and Menzikoff: The Deliverer of Sweden, and the Favourite of Czar Peter. Stories of the Sea in Former Days. Tales of Captivity and Exile. Famous Discoveries by Sea and Land. Stirring Events of History. Adventures in Field, Flood, and Forest.

BLACKIE’S TWO SHILLING SERIES. In crown 8vo, with Illustrations, cloth elegant, 2s. The Light Princess, and other Fairy Stories. By Gzorczr Mao Donautp. New Edition. Nutbrown Roger and I; A Romance of the Highway. By J. H. “YOXALL. A Rash Promise: Or, Meg’s Secret. By Cxucrnra Senpy Lownpzs. Sam Silvan’s Sacrifice: The Story of Two Fatherless Boys. By JESSE CoLMAN. : A Warrior King: A Boy’s Adventures in South Africa. By J. EVELYN. Susan. By Amy Watton. 4 BLACKIE AND SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.

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Linda and the Boys. By Crorta Seupy Lownpzs Swiss Stories for Children and those who Love Children. From the German of Mapam Sprri. By Lucy WHEELOCK. Aboard the “Atalanta.” By Henry Friru. The Penang Pirate. By Joun C. HurcuEson. Teddy: The Story of a “Little Pickle.” By Jonny C. Huronzson. Warner's Chase: Or the Gentle Heart. By Anniz 8. Swan. New Light through Old Windows. A Series of Stories illus- trating Fables of Alsop. By GREGSON Gow. A Pair of Clogs: And other Stories. By Amy Watron. The Hawthorns. By Amuy Watron. Dorothy’s Dilemma: A Tale of the Time of Charles I. By Caro- LINE AUSTIN. Marie’s Home: Or, A Glimpse of the Past. By Caronine AUSTIN. The Squire’s Grandson: A Devonshire Story. By J. M. Cat- WELL. Insect Ways on Summer Days in Garden, Forest, Field, and Stream. By Jennert Humpureys. With 70 Illustrations. Magna Charta Stories: Or Struggles for Freedom in the Olden Time, Edited by ARTHUR GILMAN, A.M. The Wings of Courage; Ann Tue Croup-Srinner. Translated from the French of Gzorcze Sanp, by Mrs. CorKRAN,

FOR THE YOUNGER CHILDREN. Adventures of Mrs. Wishing-to-be. By Aticz Cornran, Our Dolly: Her Words and Ways. By Mrs. R. H. Reap. Fairy Fancy: What she Heard and Saw. By Mrs. R. H. Reap. BLACKIE AND SON’S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE, 5

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Four Little Mischiefs. By Rosa MuLHonianp. Little Tottie, and Two Other Stories. By THomas ARcHER, Naughty Miss Bunny. By Cruara MUvULHoLianp. Chirp and Chatter; Or, Lessons rrom Firerp anp Tree, By ALICE Banks. With 54 Illustrations by Gorpon Brownz,

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The Seed She Sowed. By EMMA The Pedlar and his Dog. By Mary LESLIE. C. ROWSELL. Unlucky: A Fragment of a Girl’s Life. Into the Haven. By ANNIE S. Swan. By CAROLINE AUSTIN. Tom_Finch’s Monkey. By J. C. Everybody’s Business: or a Friend HUTCHESON. in Need. By Ismay THORN. Our General: A Story for Girls. By Tales of Daring and Danger. By ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT. G. A. HENTY. Aunt Hesba’s Charge. By HLIZa- The Seven Golden Keys. By JAMES BETH J. LYSAGHT. E. ARNOLD. By Order of Queen Maude. By The Story of a Queen. By Mary Lovisa CRow. C. ROWSELL. Miss Grantley’s Girls, and the Stories. Joan’s Adventures at the North she told them. By THos. ARCHER. Pole, By ALICE CORKRAN. The Troubles of Little Tim. By Filled with Gold. By J. PERRETT. GREGSON Gow. Edwy: Or, Was he a Coward? By Down and Up Again. By GREGson ANNETTE LYSTER. Gow. The Battlefield Treasure. By F. The Happy Lad. By B. BJORNSON. BAYFORD HARRISON. The Patriot Martyr, and other Nar- Yarns on the Beach. By G. A. ratives of Female Heroism. HENTY. Madge’s Mistake. By ANNIE E. ATerrible Coward. By G. M. FENN. ARMSTRONG. The Late Miss Hollingford. By Box of Stories. By H. HAPPYMAN. RosA MULHOLLAND.

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Freda’s Folly. By M. 8. HAyorart, A Boy Musician: or, The Young Days of Mozart. Philip Danford. By JULIA GODDARD. Hatto’s Tower. By M. C. ROWSELL. The jounBest Princess. By JENNIE CHAPP Fairy Lovebairn’s Favourites. Sou “Temptation By EMMA Alf Jetsam. By Mrs. GEO, CUPPLES. The Redfords. By Mrs. G. CUPPLES. A change for we a oreet By M. HARRIET M. C Missy. By F. BAYFoRD HARRISON. Hidden Seed, By Emma Our Two Be ie By CHRISTIAN LESLIE. REDFORD. Jack’s Two Sovereigns. By ANNIE S. FENN. Mr. Lipscombe’s Apples. By JULIA GODDARD. Ursula’s Aunt. By ANNIE S. FENN. A Gypsy against Her Will. By A Little Adventurer. By GREGSON EMMA LESLIE. Gow. An Emigrant Boy’s Story. By Olive Mount. By ANNIE S. FENN. Ascorrt R, Hops. Three Little Ones. By C. Laneron. The Castle on the Shore. By Isa- BEL HORNIBROOK. Tom Watkins’ Mistake, By Emma LESLIE. John a’ Dale. By Mary C. RoWSELL. Two Little Brothers, By M. Har- Jock and his Friend. By Cora RIET M. CAPES. LANGTON. The New Boy at Merriton. Gladys: Or, The Sister's Charge. By E. O'BYRNE The Blind Boy of Dresden. Jon of Iceland: A True Story. In the Summer Holidays, By JEN- NETT HUMPHREYS. Stories from Shakespeare. How the Strike Began. By EMMA Every Man in his Place. LESLIE. Fireside Fairies and Flower Tales from the Russian of Madame Fancies. Kubalensky. By G. JENNER. To the Sea in Ships, Cinderella’s Cousin. By PENELOPE. Little Daniel: A Story of the Rhine. Their New Home. By A. 8. FENN. Jack’s Victory: Stories about Dogs. Janie’s Holiday. By C. REDFORD. Story of a King. By one of his Sol- The Children of Haycombe. By diers. ANNIE 8. FENN. Prince Alexis: or, Old Russia. The Cruise of the ‘‘Petrel.” eoohe the Serf: Stories of Russian The Wise Princess. Re By M. HARRIET 1Te. True Stories of Foreign History. BLACKIE AND SON’S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN. 7

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